#CarpeDiem #IrishWriters
The Steamer ‘ Atlantic ’ Was Wre… FOR months and years, with penury… And heart-sore envy did they dare… And mite by mite was saved from ea… To buy, some future day, the God-…
BLESSED are Pain, the smiter, And Sorrow, the uniter! For one afflicted lies— A symboled sacrifice— And all our rancor dies!
Once in a lifetime, we may see the… Tremble and lift, that hides symbo… The Spirit’s vision, when the sen… Sweeps the weird meaning that the… Deep in the midst of turmoil, it m…
THE red rose whispers of passion, And the white rose breathes of lov… O, the red rose is a falcon, And the white rose is a dove. But I send you a cream-white rose…
‘What is the real good?’ I ask in a musing mood. ‘Order,’ said the law court; ‘Knowledge,’ said the school; ‘Truth,’ said the wise man;
HE is coming! he is coming! in my… There is music in my blood, and it… That my love unknown comes toward… For I cannot hide the secret that… O the sweet bursting flowers! how…
CLEAR and bright, from the snowy… The joyous stream to the plain des… Rich sands of gold were washed and… To the turbid marsh where its pure… From stainless snow to the moor be…
‘I’LL have it, I tell you! Curse… The long knife glittered, was shea… The sawyer staggered and tripped a… And falling he uttered a frightene… His face to the sky, he shuddered…
THE words of the lips are double… True or false, as we say or sing: But the words of the eyes that mix… Are always saying the same old thi…
The dead who died for Ireland! Oh, these are living words To nerve the hearts of patriots— To steel avenging swords— They thrill the soul when spoken,
NOT on the word alone Let love depend; Neither by actions done Choose ye the friend. Let the slow years fly—
LOVE is a plant with double root… And of strange, elastic power: Men’s minds are divided in naming… But a kiss is only the flower.
I KNEW it all my boyhood: in a l… Like a dryad’s mirror hidden by th… Its eye flashed back the sunshine,… And I loved its truthful depths w… I scooped my hand and drank it, an…
The Infinite always is silent: It is only the Finite speaks. Our words are the idle wave-caps On the deep that never breaks. We may question with wand of scien…
TEAR down the crape from the col… Be silent the wailing music—there… We come not in plaint or sorrow—no… We dare not weep o’er the epitaph… Come hither with glowing faces, th…